Page:Modern Japanese Stories.pdf/63

 His face was unshaved, his cheeks were pale and emaciated; but there was a glitter in his sunken eyes.

“You’re safe, my boy,” said Wasao. “That’s all I care about. I don’t know what I’d have done if anything had happened to you. What do 400 or 500 yen matter so long as you’re all right?”

The tears streamed down his face as he seized his son’s hands in his own.

One day the following summer Kanako appeared by herself at the back entrance of her sister’s tea-shop. Since the crisis in December she had only been there twice, once to pay a New Year’s call, once at the cherry-blossom season. On both occasions she had been accompanied by her husband. The sister had assumed that Kanako’s married life had improved. In view of Sōichi’s character this had surprised her somewhat, but at the same time she had felt greatly relieved.

Now a glance at Kanako’s dejected face made her realize that her optimism had been unjustified. She put aside her cinema magazine and turned off the electric fan that had been cooling her plump body.

“What’s wrong?” she said.

“Nothing … nothing really,” answered Kanako, looking aside awkwardly. It soon turned out that she had come once again to speak to her sister about separating from Sōichi. Kanako’s desire for a separation, however, was rather vague and as soon as she was confronted with her direct, efficient sister she felt that her resolution was ebbing.

After the December crisis Sōichi had made a show of controlling himself. He still did not turn over his full salary, but Kanako decided that she too should try to change her attitude and she avoided speaking about money matters. Sōichi lost no time in taking advantage of this.

One day Sōichi announced that he was being granted a decoration of the eighth rank and war medal, together with a small pension for his overseas service. He was as delighted as a child who has received a toy sabre from his parents.